Farrah's Return
by CalamityKate
Summary: Farrah Wood is moving back to La Push after a traumatic experience left her physically and emotionally scarred. Abandoned by boys who were her brothers, she left town. Terrified of the new powers that were activated in the accident, she is forced to return. Relearning to walk without support and magic powers that are destroying her already fail body. What else can go wrong?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Neither a beginning or an ending

Dear Diary, January 1st

I am strong. I – am – strong. Farrah Sabine Woods is strong.

Repeat – I am strong, I am strong…..IAMSTRONGIAMSTRONG. I. GODDAMIT.

Dr Fitzgerald is an idiot if she honestly thought that mantra was going to help me, I am anything but strong.

I am weak, I am tired and I'm in pain. But most of all, I want to die.

\- Farrah

Dear Diary, January 10th

Diary, let's be real. Writing about how frail and fucked up my body is – is NOT going to help. What does Dr Fitzy want me to do? How is writing down facts going to help. Yes, I'm sick. Yes, I'm in pain. Yes, my body doesn't work.

Yes, my friends abandoned me. And yes, I am completely and absolutely, alone.

I don't want to do this anymore,

\- Farrah

I'm too old for this shit.

Well technically I'm 17, I guess my body is too old for this shit.

'Is this really what you want to do,' Angie pressed, her face tense and worried. 'Sweetie, I'm sure there are other options, you could always go live with your father – you never know you might love Tennessee.'

I nearly snickered when she mentioned my father, he left when I was three and had a new family with a tyrant of a woman. It would be worse there, than at…home. Home. The thought of the two-story house I knew that waited for me at La Push sent shivers down the back of my hands. Nervousness tore through me and for one sickening second, I thought I'd throw up.

Angie is my aunt, my beautifully talented aunt who I love more than anything in the world. When my mum ran off and my grandparents were deemed too old to care for me, Angie stepped in. When I got sick, Angie looked after me. Angie dropped her entire life to take me in. I could never deny her anything, and if moving back home is what we need to do, I'll do it. I'll face the pain I knew that waited for me, the lingering sense of betrayal that surrounds my past terrifies me.

I forced a grin to my face as I faced my aunt across the length of the U-Haul that separated us, 'C'mon Ange, it's a new adventure! New York was fun for a year but it's time to go home.'

I knew Angie too well to know she didn't believe me, but there was nothing we could do, we simply can no longer afford to live in New York.

I grew up in La Push with my flighty mother. Since I was five she'd leave me for days at a time, as she jumped from man to man, job to job, and I grew to be independent.

The house that I knew awaited my return was my father's grandparents' house, where my grandmother lives in solitude. It was comforting to know I'd return to a house where I knew that when I entered I was loved unconditionally. I was to live in a house where on my brief and at times lengthy visits, I knew happiness and belonging. Unlike my mother's place. I will never enter that deep corner of hell again. In fact, I may burn it.

Anger flew through my body, a sudden surge of pure fury that saw sparks shoot from my fingers, and the smell of burnt her entered the car. Stabbing pain followed the sparks almost immediately. 'Just breathe babe, just breathe, meditate while I drive to the airport. You need to calm yourself,' Ange gently reminded me.

Ange hummed a song as she backed out of the driveway of her old house, the one that was recently sold to move back to a shitty little town she tried to escape from. Because of me.

I couldn't physically do the drive from New York to Washington, therefore we decided to fly and having all of our belongings shipped to us upon our arrival.

The problem is, my grandparents' house is situated next to the Call's. Home to my ex-2nd mother and best friend, Embry and Tiffany Call.

Moving back was not nearly as hard as I thought it would be. The familiar walls were a comfort to me. The yellow stained walls brought a sense of warmth into my cooling soul, I desperately need this. I needed my grandmother, and her lavender scented hugs. Ange needed her mother's support in caring for me. And grandmother Evangeline needed her girls, since she lost her husband six years ago she had been alone. Except for my frequent visits, usually with a trail of boys behind me. My grandmother had a place in the council, she was not _in_ the council, but she played a role that was respected even by the Chief. For she possesses forgotten knowledge passed down only to her. She knew what I was becoming, she knew why my body was failing. She urgently bade us come back to our land before I combust as my heritage and body continues to fight against each other. We are here because she is the only one who can help me transition, to continue to live.

But to live comes with a price, for what I could become could see me bound to La Push forever, and I think I would rather die.

In the three days after I arrived at Gran's I did not see Embry once. His bedroom window faced my old one. I hung block out curtains to deny him a glimpse of me, but every now and again I would peek out my window. His bed remained made, and his room untouched for the entire length of time I was back. I saw Tiffany from a distance, getting out of her car and checking the mailbox. But not once did I see the boys. Unusual as we practically lived at the Call's growing up. The house would be full of life and laughter and stupid pranks, but now it was just empty.

I was given a week before I had to start school. In that time, I visited my new Physio every day for recovery at Fork's hospital but other than that I refused to step outside. I didn't want to see anyone I once knew. I didn't think I could control myself. I spent my days with Gran as Ange painted, and painted and painted, she travelled too and from Seattle to oversee her new art gallery.

But the following Monday soon rolled around. Much to my dismay, I knew I could not fully avoid them without the walls of my grandmother's house. I practiced calming techniques she taught me, I must not harm anyone.

There was an undeniable tension that rippled through the carpark when Ange pulled out my walker from the back seat and unfolded it like a pram. She kissed me softly on the cheek, regret shone from her chocolate coloured eyes, she hated that I had to do this – to face them. She fetched my blue backpack, medicine planner and joint guards before swiftly packing them away in the small compartment in my walker. I could feel the muted energy rebound as the kids I knew for years, who I grew up with, stopped and stared. Their eyes lingered on the once lively Farrah Woods be escorted to the office by a woman notorious for hating her home town. But it was the bright blue walker decorated with fairy lights that drew their attention to the two women. I knew I was going to be avoiding awkward personal questions for the rest of the week: what happened to you? Where did you go? Why did you leave? What happened that night?

I don't dread their curiosity, it is human nature and after all I find delight in making the questioner uncomfortable as possible.

No, what I dread was a trio of boys. Friends from the cradle, preschool, middle school till the end of freshmen year. Those who turned on me when I needed their strength to continue my farce of a life.

Thankfully they weren't in the carpark or the office. I could only hope I could avoid them.

'This is a most unusual situation Ms Woods, we haven't had a student with this calibre of a disability in the last decade,' the principal began as the two Woods women sat down in adjacent seats. I lifted a brow, curious as to where he was going with this.

As did Angie apparently…

'Where are you going with this Nick,' she demanded, crossing her legs while cocking her head to the side inquiringly. I shot her a look, the principal was her ex high-school boyfriend, and unlike her – he never escaped.

'Ms Woods,' he started before being cut off by my headstrong aunt.

'Knock it off Nick, you've seen me naked, I've seen you naked. Don't you think that in lieu of our old romantic relationship you can call me Angie?'

"Nick," turned an interesting shade of purple as he choked on his own spit.

I leaned forward expressionless, 'Mr Johnson would you like some water?' As he shook his head no, with a sudden small smile I exclaimed, 'excellent, let's do business, then shall we? As you have heard I have an undiagnosed autoimmune disease, chronic nerve pain along with damage from the accident. I was wondering if you were going to suggest that the school was unable to host me. Because, if so, that could be classified as discrimination, and with your low attendance and result records from the past four years I imagine a defamation suit is the last thing you need.' Angie smiled at me proudly, while her ex-boyfriend looked on in horror.

Ange rustled around in her handbag before pulling out her wallet, 'Farr do you remember where I put the card for that fancy lawyer I met at work?'

'That won't be necessary,' Mr Johnson interjected hastily. 'I'm sure measures can be put in place to aid Miss Woods time at La Push High.

I grinned triumphantly, 'I fully expect disabled toilets be installed shortly, in the meantime I'll be using the teacher facilities.'

Mr Nicolas Johnson ran his hand through his hair, how did he lose control of this meeting so thoroughly? La Push High, despite mandatory requirements never updated school facilities to cater for disabilities. He was planning to suggest the Woods reconsider their enrolment to attend Forks high instead as it is a more modern school. But he had forgotten that he would have to deal with his high-school girlfriend and her no-bullshit attitude. He wasn't employed at the high school during Farrah's first and last year at La Push High, but he heard the rumours of what happened. It was awful, and despite two years it's still talked about.

Sighing, he resigned himself to extra paperwork, and to beg for more funding. Ramps are going to be installed, a new toilet – it's a cluster headache ready to happen. He had enough to deal with the blasted "Protectors of La Push," which is supported fiercely by Chief Black and the council. They have been condoning the boys continued absences and poor marks. Principal Johnson knew he was losing control of his school.

Because in his mind, people with disabilities do not belong in mainstream schools.

When Farrah and Ange finally left the office after sorting out paperwork they erupted into giggles. 'Did you see his face? He so was not expecting that,' Ange gasped clutching her stomach.

'He wasn't, was he?' I chuckled, we expected him to try to muscle me out of attending the school, due to my disability and his past with my aunt. He was known as a vindictive bastard around these parts.

'Okay, alright, lets breathe,' gasped Ange, 'what's your first class?'

I looked down at my schedule clutched between my hand and the walker handle. 'Uh, Modern History in 201. Ugh, thank fuck I missed homeroom,' I said smoothing out the creases to read what I had on for the rest of the day. Angie nodded towards the double doors, 'need help kid?' I laughed 'I got this Angie, I was in this hellhole for a year.' She grinned, lurching forward she fixed the collar of my red cherry dress underneath my thick denim jacket.

'Angieeee if you start fixing my makeup I will punch you in the boob,' I protested, pushing her blue nailed hands from me.

'Kid, remember you are; kick ass, gorgeous, fabulous young woman and if anyone tells you differently you have my permission to ram them in the ankles with your walker.'

With a salute and a sarcastic smirk, I said goodbye, reminding her to pick me up in the afternoon and not get lost in her latest painting. She huffed and smacked my butt before stomping off to her car.

Farrah Woods, you are strong. You are not broken. I closed my eyes briefly, trying to gain a sense of quiet before I pushed the door to 201 open. All 23 pairs of eyes turned to me as I struggled to get my walker through the heavy door. No one got up. No one asked if I needed help. They just stared. With a grunt I heaved and pushed the blasted walking device through. I sighed in exasperation, I knew people would be shocked, but I didn't expect stunned silence.

With a sardonic twist of the lips I declared, 'the prodigal daughter of La Push returns! As flattering as it is for you to all be stunned my ethereal beauty, but would anyone mind pointing me to an empty seat? Or could you girl in green move so I can sit down with my walker beside me?' Being the centre of attention was unnerving and unpleasant. The girl in green stood up in haste, nearly knocking her chair over.

Hey, girl-in-green is familiar. Ha! That's Kimmy Conwell! From what I remember she was quiet, smart and was content to hide in the shadows – I always doubted it was out of shyness but more of an unwillingness to deal with high-school bullshit. I was friends with her dad, he ran the local grocery store, he would let me extend our 'account' when we ran out of food and money. Not for my mother, but out of worry, he was afraid I would starve.

The class robotically turned from me to Kim, as she moved desk from the back-corner row but to the one beside it. I laughed awkwardly, the teacher hadn't proceeded to teach or well, move, in general. How very rude. I stumbled towards his desk, did an awkward finger gun motion before limping to my new seat.

I sighed gratefully as I sat down, manoeuvring my walker to face me to reach my belongings. Mr Pratt – oops I mean, Mr Platt gasped back to life.

'Ah…okay..um, you must be Miss Farrah Woods, welcome to – uh, I mean…welcome back! I hope you enjoy this class, if you need help please come to me,' he corrected himself, 'no, sorry, raise your hand and I'll come to you, if you have any questions.'

I was surprised to hear a snort beside me. I turned amused, I hope she is sarcastic, please be sarcastic.

'Thanks,' I whispered as Pratt began his lecture on the French Revolution. The girl beside me twitched a nervous smile, 'no problem,' she murmured as we shared an amused glance before turning our attention to Pratt, ugh MR PLATT. I need to remember his name, I can't call him a prat to his face. Despite how much of one he is.

When it was over I gasped in pain when I went to bend my knee. Trying not to vocalise the pain I was in from merely trying to stand, I grasped the handles of my walker and heaved myself upwards. I nearly screamed. Thousands of sharp daggers were being repeatedly stabbing my spine as the sensation tricked down my leg and feet.

Don't you fucking dare Farrah, you don't owe anyone your tears. You should have used your fucking wheelchair, but noooo you were too proud.

Hunched over my walker frozen, assaulted by agonizing nerve pain. I didn't realise my possessions were being quickly and quietly packed up by girl-in-green. I was oblivious until a warm hand covered my arm and led it to the walkers handles. She swung my blue back pack over her shoulder. The class was empty, the asshole teacher had left, despite his new student's obvious health crisis. A freshmen class was lining up at the door waiting for their teacher.

I knew it, I knew I wasn't ready for school, for any of this. I'm especially not ready for La Push. My old house, I wasn't ready to upgrade my wheelchair to a walker. I fought the tears I knew were forming in the corner of my eyes.

Girl-in-green gently placed my other hand on the left handle, she released the brakes and stood beside me.

'C'mon Farrah, it's the first step you need to get over. It's going to be the worst, but you'll battle it out,' soft brown eyes stared into mine determinedly. And I knew that this girl was not going to give up on me.

I nodded and pushed my left leg forward. Immediately my body attacked itself. Deep raw wounds should have opened from my thigh to my toes. I ought to have been heavily bleeding, instead no one else could see the damage, only I could feel it.

I clenched my teeth, I could hear them grind as I took my next step forward. Now the flame that began in the soles of my feet were travelling up my legs engulfing me entirely.

I was in hell.

Soft words of encouragement fall out of the lips of the girl next to me. We made it out of the classroom, I tried to tell her we had to get to our next class, but she shook her head and informed me we were going to the nurse.

With muttered creative curses from me and kind encouragement from Kim we found the nurses office. Unlike most stereotypes, Greg the nurse was not a matronly motherly woman but a flamboyantly gay male. And I love him.

'Farrah, Farrah, Farrah,' he said shaking his head, 'you know I have a bet with your Aunt Angie- nice lady by the way – when you'd be visiting me. I owe her $5, I said I'd be seeing you within the first hour. But you lasted for nearly two. You go girl.'

I stared at his eye catching green, pink and yellow shirt as Kim explained to him what happened. I was fighting the waves of pain, fighting not to be consumed. Fighting to scream.

'Farr, what's the pain level?' Greg turned to face me. I held out all ten of my fingers showing that my pain rate was 100%.

He hissed in sympathy, then asked about the type of pain I was experiencing, was it my arthritis pain? The nerve pains? My back?

I gritted my teeth as he decided I required an anti-inflammatory injection. He told Kim she could leave, but she refused, steadfast in her determination to see me out of this pain episode and into the next class.

I refused to flinch when he plunged the needle into my arm, that pain is nothing. Instead I was watching Kim, she was turning green and it was hilarious. Jeeze, if she wasn't so obviously straight I would probably be attracted to her.

'Farr girl, Ange dropped off your spare wheelchair for times like this. You can come back after lunch and swap it for your walker,' he explained, pulling out my -oh…..whaaaat the actual fuck? What the fuck did Ange do?

This fucking wheelchair was hot fucking pink.

It's fabulous.

I grinned, even though I was still in pain, it was fading and I'm now the very proud owner of my fabulous pink wheelchair. Kim giggled, 'this is actually amazing.'

'Did you know your Aunt bought you a bright pink wheelchair?' Girl-in-green enquired from behind me. I chuckled, shifting in the chair, 'my old one was rented from a hospital in New York, I left it behind when we came back here. This was a very unwelcoming surprise.'

A beat of silence passed before she asked me what class I had next, I smiled and answered Art. It was among my favourite subjects, it had to be – I had a famous artist for an Aunt after all. Ange was renowned for her paintings and sometimes sculptures. Before the accident she lived between New York and Paris, flitting back and forth as her art became high demand. But now she is back in the place she despises because of me. Because of our ancestry, because of our legends…. because of my legacy. Something incredible runs through our veins, those of us who are native to La Push. And because I know, that who I am becoming will play an important part in my tribe's community, and those who serve to protect it, is why we are back. I hate it. I hate the fact that we are here because of my blood. A trait that has skipped generations until triggered by something foul and demon-like. I am speaking of the supernatural. Something I didn't know existed…until that night. That one stupid, life-changing night. And its killing me.

Thinking of this I could feel a spark pull from my hands, painful and uncontrolled, this wasn't the nerve pain. This was a part of the transition, when I learn to deal with the magic that runs through my families blood I will adjust. But for now, my body is rejecting the surge of my elemental gift, and its slowly deteriorating.

'Farrah…I was wondering,' Kim began nervously, 'can we exchange numbers?' I must have looked confused because she hurried on, 'I remember you in Middle School and from dad's shop, I had always wanted to be your friend. You were loud and never afraid of expressing your opinion. You hung out with Jake and the boys –'I winced ' – you were and are strong. I admired you then, and I admire you now. I want to be your friend. And I want you to be able to call me if you need a hand.'

I stared, stunned, this beats her one sentence replies in Modern History. I don't think I've ever heard her say much on anything.

A small smile spread across my face as I fought back tears, 'I would like that,' I replied simply. We stopped to plug our numbers into our respective phones before navigating the school to the one arts classroom. Splashing along in the ever-present mud.

Art was interesting. No. Art was amazing. The teacher Ms Jay was in her late sixties and she was sassy. When I entered the classroom door leaving mud tracks she threw up her hands and started singing, ' …they see me rollin', they hatin' trying to catch me riding dirty...' The art kids, clearly used to her sense of humour smiled wryly and continued their work. It was a theory day, and the topic for this semester was on modern expressionism. Before leaving Kim asked if I had nowhere to sit at lunch if I'd like to sit with her and her friends, slightly high from my medicine injection I forgot about my rule of not getting close to anyone, I nodded.

'Farrrrraaaah Woods!' Ms Jay clapped as she pulled a desk forward and putting the chair to the side, so I could roll forwards, 'I taught your aunt in high school you know?' She grinned, 'she owes her fame and fortune to me, tell her I want a share,' and winked.

'Alrighty class, this is Miss Farrah Woods and yes as you can see she is in a wheelchair. No, its not your business to know why. I want you guys to open doors for Farrah, because I remember from my back surgery opening doors with a wheelchair is a fucking nightmare. Now what is Modern expressionism...'

I raised a brow, a teacher swearing to her students? Interesting. Everyone else seemed to either ignore her little speeches or are so used to them they stopped listening a long time ago. I chose the first option and tuned out, opting to read the chapter we were meant to have read before class in our textbook

'…then there was that one time I went cave diving and the shark…'

Ms Jay, sat on her desk swinging her legs back and forth, and continued speaking.

'…now Woodstock, Woodstock was art. Or well, I was on a lot of drugs back them, but whatever they made me see and hear was art…'

A note was placed on my desk, I looked to my left – there was an empty desk but to my right was a boy wearing…. a suit? Unwrapping the note, it read, 'don't worry, she is always like this.' He smiled brightly at me, the crinkles outlining his eyes were prominent. He is someone who smiles a lot it was obvious.

People began talking as Ms Jay continued her odd lecture which has now turned to 1960s sexual cults. Suit-Boy leant towards me, 'I'm Reginald River, nice to meet you Farrah Woods. Well re-meet you. You used to run around my house naked.'

'Uhhhhh'

'We were toddlers.'

'Ummm, who are you Mark Darcy and I'm Bridget Jones? Are you going to tell me I used to play naked in your paddling pool?'

A full throaty laugh tore from his throat, 'as long as you're wearing your granny panties and horribly misjudge me from the start. But how can you get the wrong impression with me? I rock this suit.'

'I bet its from Kmart,' I accused, torn between amusement and slight shock that he mentioned panties in our first conversation, reference to a movie or not. Was he flirting with me? People do not flirt with people like me. What do I do? I wanted to run, but I also knew I need to stand my ground to my insecurities.

He feinted a mock stabbing and declare, 'madam you wound me, you at least ought to be able tell I purchased my dapper garments from Target. Or should I say, "Tar-Jay."

I swallowed a giggle.

'Well Mr Darcy, it is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a suit is trying to prove something, what would that be?' I mocked carelessly.

'Well Miss Bennet or Miss Jones, its because I have rather unconventional taste in ties. In fact I have a vast collection, and all needed to be worn at some point. How else without a suit?' he shrugged, a hint of a smile flittered on his face as I tried to laugh but instead snorted.

His tie was very bright yellow adorned with a picture of a badger, written above was "I don't give a Hufflefuck!"

How the fuck has he gotten away with wearing that school?

'Well Mr Reginald Rivers, we shall be best of friends, I'm a Slytherin.'

And that is how I met my best friend.

'And I said, mum, if you're going to buy me a suit for a third-cousins wedding I'm at _least_ going to wear it to school. Now I own seven suits, one for every day of the week.'

Reginald, or Reggie as he prefers to be called, chattered away behind me as he pushed my wheel chair to the cafeteria.

'- so I decided that green velvet would go fabulously with my skin, and who doesn't want a velvet suit?'

'Oi, Sarah! Can you open the door Mademoiselle and I need to get some food!'

Pushing me through the door I didn't get the chance to say I was going to sit with Kim and her friends, he rolled me to a corner in the far right of the cafeteria. Sitting there were two boys a girl.

The girl had very bright green and purple hair, she didn't look up from her novel when Reggie pushed me to the table and announced he had commandeered a new friend.

The boy on the right was average looking, looking at me strangely, as though he was trying to figure me out. And the other boy? He was asleep.

Slamming my hands on the table I shouted, 'Sup!?'

Jumping girl in colourful hair shrieked 'WHO THE FUCK!?' The other kid continued to sleep.

Reggie smiled and ruffled my already unruly curls, 'I knew I'd like you.' The girl glared at me, 'so you're the cripple huh?'

I took my time getting my lunch box out, ignoring her annoyed gaze before grinning, 'and you're the bitch, are you?'

She snorted, 'basically. I'm Ash, and I gotta say you are rocking that wheelchair.'

'That's Connor, you won't really get to meet him because he is asleep all the time. And creepy guy who is staring at you is Jason. Don't worry he's only a little bit stoned,' Ash pointed.

'Cool cool cool cool, nice to meet you guys.'

Reggie and his friends were a collective of loners, who kind of gravitated towards each other when the occasion called for it. Ash spent half her time in detention due to her unconventional hair colours, and habit of arguing with dim teachers. Connor was a very active gamer who plays all night and sleeps the school day away. When he's awake he has a vicious sense of humour. And Jason? Jason was so far gone he had no idea what day it was. I think I found my group of independent and interesting weirdos to help me get through high-school. Because quite frankly, none of them gave a fuck I was in a wheelchair.

I was deep into a conversation with Ash, discussing Germaine Greer when I finally spotted Kim. Sitting alone across the cafeteria, I felt guilty and was about to make my excuses when I saw _them._

Reggie snorted, 'and see the very tall, very attractive foursome to your left Farrah? They are the 'protectors' of La Push. But we have our theories, our first is a steroid drug ring and Chief Black is the king pin because you know that's Jake. Or what were we saying yesterday Connor?'

'Gym Cult? Dude I dunno.'

I stared frozen, they had changed. Their faces lost their innocence, child-like curiosity was gone. Instead they moved with purpose, scanning the room unintentionally as though they were searching for exposed threats. They were my brothers, my family, my boys but now they've been reduced to …. predators. And I wanted to throw up. To scream, to throw a plate to see the porcelain smash against the school linoleum. I watched as the four; Jake, Embry, Quil and I think that is Jared (I hadn't much to do with him) moved across the room quickly to the lone Kimmy. Was she with them? With the group that ruined my lives? If it wasn't for them, the crash would never have happened, she would still be alive, and I wouldn't be dying.

Its their fault. And I hate them for it.

In my shock at suddenly seeing them after quite some time, I saw in a fog of Kim pointing in my direction and three heads turning.

Oh shit, whatever I do I must not meet their eyes. Then I could well and truly…be trapped.


	2. Chapter 2: The Grandma Act

Chapter 2: The Grandma Act

I didn't know I had it in me. To act so blasé and dismissive towards them. That I could and did make it appear as though they mean little to me. It was a bitter-sweet success that left me feeing empty.

Before the accident, before they turned their backs on me I was a sturdy healthy branch, a young limb to the flourishing tree that was my home, La Push. Afterwards, betrayed, my branch rotted at the joining to the trunk to detach completely. Rotting on the ground, I was picked up, assessed and deemed salvageable. A gifted carver took her knife to my flesh and carved someone new, an utter stranger ingrained with the threads of my life. I no longer know who I was or want I wanted.

And the pain, the pain changes you.

Constantly being tortured and attacked by your own body destroys any niceness left in you. Pain has made me uncaring, and cold.

Torn between wanting to fight to continue to live for my aunt, and the temptation to give up and fall away… I'm too tired, too weary, and I love to little. And the only people I had ever cared about lied to everyone about what happened that night.

One by one they fell away, drawn to Sam's group of protectors. And they forgot about me. Their sister. They knew my home life, they knew my mother. They knew that I had nobody but them, and my grandmother. I barely knew Angie before the accident. And now she is the only one getting me through this.

They were staring at me, I could feel it. The worst part of this was that I could not run away.

'Oh, dude that's right!' Reg's sudden outburst startled me, 'you were joined at the hip with those muscle-freaks!'

I snorted, 'that's one way to put it.'

Ash was still staring past my shoulder, she was glaring at them. And when I mean glaring, I mean full on laser-eye glaring.

'They aren't coming over, are they?' I refused to turn around, I looked at them once but now to me, they do not exist.

'Not with Ash killing them with the power of her eyes,' said Connor.

The rest of the lunch went peacefully, but I decided that today was too long of a strain on me and rang Ange to come and get me early. The faculty arranged a new system for me, acknowledging that I won't attend school for majority of the week and that at times full-days won't be a possibility. Therefore, Gran had to get an internet connection, and I have a new laptop.

During lunch I was tense, and I felt ill.

But I refused to turn my head and make eye contact. They made it clear that I was nothing to them. But I know that despite the time that has past, I haven't moved on.

All through the surgery, the pain, the rehabilitation, learning to walk again I had them planted in the back of my mind. They are weeds, I pull them out, but they come right back again.

They left me, they have moved on. They just don't know, they didn't know that my role in the tribe was going to an integral cog to their role as the protector. In fact, only my grandmother and Ange knew. I refused to let the Council know, despite Gran's encouragement. I will not be forced to bind myself to a land and people that rejected me when I needed them.

'Hey, can anyone smell burning hair?' Reggie's question jerked me to the present, as I realised my hands were heating up and emitted a small spark. I really needed to work out how to control this thing before it literally burns me up inside.

'Dude, you're smelling things thing again,' laughed Ash as she stole his chips.

'Excuse you, that smell was _real._ Mr Martins office smells like strawberry lube, like I'm not even kidding!'

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Angie and Grandma drove to school to pick me up, I swapped my wheelchair for my blinged out walker and left.

I knew I wasn't going back to school tomorrow, that's just way too much too handle.

I gingerly sat in the backseat of Gran's old red mustang while Angie dumped my walker in the boot.

'You saw them didn't you darling,' Grandam asked, concerned. I laughed bitterly, 'yep, and like you said, they have change.'

'Farr, you know they had no control over the change, just like you had no control over yours. It's the magic in your blood.'

I scoffed, 'yeah but its literally killing me.'

I hadn't noticed Angie jumping in, which I should have because she was whistling the theme song to the _Addams Family_ until she lost her actual shit.

'FARRAH WOODS. YOU ARE NOT GOING TO DIE.'

Grandma Eva tried to intervene 'Honey –'

'NO MUM, I WILL NOT HAVE THIS FUCKING DEAFETIST ATTITUDE IN MY CAR. BECAUSE SO HELP ME FARRAH JANE WOODS, IF YOU SO MUCH AS _THINK_ OF GIVING UP I AM GOING TO BRING YOU BACK TO LIFE AND KICK YOUR ASS. DO. YOU. HEAR ME.

She slammed her car door and sat down, angrily clenching the steering wheel as I and her mother watch her in concern.

'I'm sorry Farrah, but I've only just got you. For years your mother never allowed me into your life, she had never liked me. And now, despite everything you're dealing with and everything you are going through… I am happy, because you are loved by someone so fiercely as your mother and father should have loved you…and that's me. I don't think I'm ever going to have kids, but I can't imagine loving my own child more than I already love you…' she took a breath and turned in her seat to meet my teary eyes, 'Farrah Woods, you can do great things. But first you need to find peace, with your body, your heritage and with those who you once loved….and I think some part of you loves them still and always will. Forgive my darling, but never forget.'

Gran laid a comforting hand on her daughter's arm as she started the car. I was in shock, I knew that my aunt loved me. But I didn't realise that to her…. I am the daughter she never had. If I were to give up, reject this native magic and let it kill me, it would kill her too.

Binding myself to a land that destroyed me in the past would be hard, and unimaginable but if I could spare Ange the heartbreak of losing a child, maybe I need to consider it.

There was a hum of conversation from the front seat, while I pondered I hadn't realised the name 'Clearwater's' had come into the conversation.

' – Well now, you know its only Sue Clearwater by herself since Harry passed away, she has been throwing herself into the community. She's taken his place in the towns council you know, which is huge as wives don't normally take seats reserved by those with direct lineage. She has invited us over for tea, I was thinking perhaps you and Farrah would visit. She is a nurse, Ange, you could talk to her about Farrah's rehabilitation,' Gran said. Ange hummed in agreement.

Clearwater…? No, no, no, no! They were apart of that _group_ now, I just know Seth had changed already. He has the blood, maybe even Leah. I can't go over there, they might be there. How do I get out of this?

The car came to a halt. I hadn't realised we arrived as Gran jumped out of the car to open her driveway gate to allow Ange to pull in.

'Ange?' I questioned, looking down at my hands that trembled in pain.

'My mum wasn't really a mother, and I hadn't considered her that since I was really little. And um, I just wanted to say. To me you're my mum, and I love you. And I'm sorry I'm sick and I'm sorry I can't control what's happening to me,' I said slowly, trying to ensure that my words didn't come out garbled.

A giggle jerked my head up in shock, 'I thought we were having a moment!' More giggles met my words as she gasped, 'only you would apologise for being in a car accident and having fucked up tribal magic fucking up your body!'

Shock turned to amusement as I started to laugh.

See, I can't leave Ange. She is my Ma.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

I didn't leave the house for the rest of the week. Metaphorically speaking. My joint pain had worsened. I couldn't use a pencil, I could only type for short periods of time during of which I tried to complete my school work. My body was bound in many different type of joint support to help with the pain. Which meant I could only walk around the house, therefore school was not an option. I did leave the house to see my new Rheumatologist about the joint pain, and my physiotherapist.

My Rheumatologist may have not received the memo from my old one in New York about the autoimmune diseases that I hadn't tested positive too, because he insisted on more blood tests for Rheumatoid Arthritis, Lupus and Multiple Sclerosis. As well as several MRI scans. I sat in his office glaring at the doctor as he repeated everything Ange and I heard a million times before, I mean…did he bother reading my medical portfolio? Which include blood tests, MRI's, Cat scan etc etc. And they want me to do more? Spend another hour in a MRI machine as the loud noises give me a migraine? If they were so sure I had an autoimmune disease, why aren't I on steroids or Plaquenil?

My physio however is fun, her name is Nancy and she is very young. Which I like, and she is very easy to talk too. She had me trying 'water-running' this week in the hospital pool. I heard a very rich doctor made a very generous donation to the rehabilitation side of the hospital which allowed them to build a heated pool in the basement.

Dr Murphey, the Rhemuy Doc, informed Ange (I made it obvious I wasn't listening) that he would consult another doctor in the hospital on my results – when I have the test of course.

How do you be honestly, perfectly happy with life? How can you be strong when your body is failing, and doctors can't help? How even _do_ I bind myself to La Push?

I don't know, I just do not know.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Friday came around quickly, and Ange had picked me up from the hospital pool when she decided to drop a bombshell.

'So, Farrah, your grandmother is visiting Sue Clearwater and I'm about to go visit myself. Would you like to go?' She smiled wearily. She was expecting my answer as I hurriedly said no thank you and that Nancy wore me out in the pool.

I wasn't going to take the chance that they may be there.

Which I admit, is why I haven't gone anywhere beyond the hospital in the last four days.

But ultimately, I don't want to chance it. I don't know what to expect if we ever do come face to face. The cafeteria incident was awkward, and I had to wait until they left Kim's table before I went back to see the nurse, lest I run into them while they went to class.

Quite frankly, running from a "maybe meeting" with three ex-best friends is tiring work.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Muttering a curse, I pushed my walker past the white picket fence, it was narrow, not-so-white brown and dingy. And my walker was too wide for it.

Ange had dropped me off in the street and had sped off to see Sue Clearwater. I guess she was anxious to go see her as she is La Push's resident nurse, if Ange wanted advice, who better to ask than her ex-second mother? That was another reason I didn't want to go, I didn't want to hear more about my sickness.

'Fucking fucked fence arsed whore!' I swore as I failed in holding the gate back while pushing.

With frustration coursing through my exhausted body I didn't hear the rambunctious laughter coming my Gran's neighbours house. The Call's.

With hindsight, I would acknowledge that I could become complacent. I hadn't seen that at _that_ house since arriving. I just assumed they were at their cult-leaders place, sacrificing a goat or something.

Ugh, if only the doorway was an inch wider…

Unconsciously gritting my teeth, I pushed the walker in diagonally, and it became stuck. I'm still too weak, as long as it didn't rain, and those boys don't leave that house, I'll be fine.

Boyish laughter grew louder and drew my attention to the porch, I was surprised there was finally _life_ in the house. For the past few days I may have been watching the house and so far, I hadn't seen anyone enter or leave the house.

Ange had spoken to Tiffany I know, but I limped away when she began to speak about their conversation. I didn't want them anywhere near my life.

I could hear vaguely familiar voices, they were deeper than I remember. My head began to pound, and black specks appeared before my eyes as the little headache I had nursed since physio grew steadily.

I need to sit, I need to lie down, before this gets any worse.

I could hear vaguely familiar voices, they were deeper than I remember, growing louder – along with my soon-to-be migraine.

Then the worst happened, the Call's porch door swung open, and out filed four shirtless, well-muscled boys. Once familiar but now strangers.

Looking down panicking, I realised I was out in the open, they _could_ approach me. I wasn't protected by Gran's house or Ash's ferocious glare. I was well and truly fucked. Did they want to talk to me? No, I told myself harshly, I promised that they would not break me, not again.

I dreaded this moment for months, and it finally arrived.

C'mon walker, move!

Their laughter ceased, I was spotted. Shooting pains pierced my eyes and skull, and I begged myself not to scream.

The silence was loud and all-consuming. It engulfed me. Then suddenly a voice I once knew called my name, 'Far….?'

That jolted me, I lifted my head proudly, despite the growing migraine and the high chance I couldn't control the flames that at odd times erupt from my skin when upset. They weren't going to get the satisfaction.

I finally looked at them. They were unrecognisable, gone were the young boyish teenagers I knew. In their place stood four young men who seemed ten years their senior. It was their faces though that were familiar, but their eyes had changed. They were hardened, haunted. Like me I suppose, they have seen things that no one should have. And, some part of me knew exactly what had changed them. Time.

'Farrah?' The gruff voice once again called. Setting my shoulders back, I forced a wide yet sarcastic smile to grace my face. Mechanically twisting my features from intense pain to one that seemed at ease.

'Oh hello, do I know you?' I asked.

Bewildered he came close, 'its me, Jacob…your second-cousin?' The three boys on the porch began to whisper.

I laughed, 'oh silly me, that's right! I keep forgetting I have other family.' Pain twisted his handsome features.

Gaily I laughed, to turn and face the other three, 'oh boys, let me look at you. Haven't you dears grown up?'

Embry jumped down, 'Far, we're the same age?'

I gasped in fake shock, 'what? Oh dearie me, I didn't realise that! As I am currently pushing a walker and you all seem to be so young, despite the accident. It must be my mind playing tricks on me again isn't? What was it that you told Chief Charlie Swan that night, wasn't it? That I like to make up stories?'

Jacob began to shake, his hands clenched. 'It was for your own protection,' he grunted, eyes glaring into mine. Quil hurried to grab his arm. I smiled patronizingly, 'I'm sure it was dearie, tsk tsk. Now can someone help out this poor grandma and lift my walker over the fence?'

With a growl Jacob ran into the woods, followed by Quil and Embry. The fourth man, was a boy when I left. An innocent charming child.

He lifted my walker over the fence, and then guided me with gentle hands to sit down upon it.

The pain had grown, white lights flashed in my mind as it became excoriating.

'Farrah, I don't think you should be so hard on them,' he began. As he clasped the handles of my previously emancipated walker, effectively trapping me into listening to him. The pain was unbearable, I swallowed a pained gasp as I answered him.

'You know nothing.'

'I know more than you think.

Through slitted eyes I stared at him in doubt, clenching my teeth as a marching band used my brain as a street parade. Trying to think this situation though. He wasn't there when it happened, but on the other hand he is clearly with them. My resolved hardening, I muttered, 'I know you do, but maybe you ought to talk to…..S….Sam…and tell him I rem..em..ber everything.' Pain overran my mind as my teeth sunk through my lips and blood dripped down my throat.

'What the fuck?' He swore, 'Farrah!' He called my name as my mind stopped working and my eyes rolled back into my head.

I was having a seizure.

And all went dark.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Memories and Misunderstandings

 _The summer before the accident was perfect, a general kind of wonderful. It wasn't life-changing or overall exciting, but rather a continuation of contentment that made me glad to be who I was. Irrespective of my home life. All was well…well almost._

' _Farr, if I got kidnapped and you had to come to Columbia and save me by delivering the map to the baddies would you do it?' Jacob asked me, staring lazily at the television._

 _Embry threw his shoe at Jake's head, 'bro you'd be lucky if she mailed it to you!' I snickered to myself, lifting my feet to rest against Quil's lap._

' _Look, I would rescue you IF and only IF a young Michael Douglas was guaranteed,' Quil snorted at my reply._

 _It was the middle of summer, and my excuse of a mother had been gone for three days. Me and the boys used that time well, using the house as a base away from the watching eyes of parents. How did we spend this much needed time away from parental authorities? By watching 80s movies, the guys did not get a choice in watching Romancing the Stone._

 _I smiled as Embry shoved pretzels in his mouth without lifting his gaze from the movie. Quil and Jake slowly sunk together as the onscreen heroine technically just hot-boxed an illegal drug cargo plane with Catherine Zeta Jone's future husband. These boys were my home. The summer was long, soon I would be following the boys into high school. They will enter their sophomore year and I'll become a freshman. After a whole year of being separated, I was ready to be with my brothers again. Had I known, what the next school year would have brought…I'd have run. But young 13-year-old me was naïve in her safety that her family would never let her down. Young me, was wrong._

 _A sudden car door slam made me jump. She was back. Fuck._

 _Jake pulled me off the couch, kicking the boys in the back of the head. They knew what we had to do. Turn off the TV, tiptoe to the hall, and then jump out the bathroom window. We have been doing this since she found us unaware a few years ago, after the welts that took weeks to fade, we know its best to sneak out. To pretend that Tina did not have a daughter, for she would not be alone once she opens that door. I was the last to swing my legs out the window, but I pushed off to late. She found me. I wish not to go into detail. I am not naïve any longer, but I know she is or was not a good person._

 _But now, as my body slowly fails my memory of her wavers. I've forgotten the exact colour of her eyes, were they hazel with a hint of gold or flecks of green? Did she have her beauty spot on her left or right cheek? What did her laugh sound like, before he had left? What was that perfume she smashed on the living room rug when he left the house for the last time? He bought it for her, and she could not stand the scent of it. The bottle, by some unfathomable twist of fate shattered against the shag rug, the scent of happier memories and lies seven-year-old me didn't understand, lingered. She moved the rug to the attic. The fragrance of lilac and jasmine was forever imprinted on the rug. She wasn't always awful. She loved me, once. But then, one day, she did not. The first time she slapped me across the cheek. It had been six months since he left, and six months since the shag carpet had been replaced. I remember that day well, I remember her expression, the surprise at her breath smelling so fiercely of poison that later I worked out to be spirits. I remember pulling the stool from the kitchen to reach the attic chain. I remember choking on dust and the ghost of happier memories. The rug was discarded, shoved into the corner of the dusty room. I remember pulling it out to reach the feebly struggling fingers of sunlight that filtered through the unpatched roof. I remember the scent, the perfume was just as strong as day he bought it for Mama, and just as strong as the day he left. And the day he left? Her heart left. Nearly eight-year-old me fell asleep curled up on the rug, wet tears staining my red cheek._

 _This was the year I found that I had a family, and that she was no longer a part of it. This was the year before Sarah died. The year where four children forged their bond of loyalty, born out of loss and readjustment to life which seemed so hopeless and inexplicitly distorted. We found each other. And we lived._

 _Then I met her. She had only just moved down the street of my mother's house. I remember watching her from the broken window in the attic. I had never met anyone in real life with red hair. She was vibrant. Beautiful. She was a beacon of life. The year before high school we met. We spent afternoons climbing trees as she recounted all the places she wanted to go, to see, all that she wished to do in this short time we had on earth. She enthralled me. For she was all that I hoped for in a world that had seemed so unfriendly and cold._

 _This was the year I fell in love._

 _And then I lost her._

We were laying in the meadow surrounded in Hollyhock and wild Daisies. Her red hair was spread on the ground, contrasting with the native flowers. Her fingers slim and dainty, piano fingers I called them as we interlocked our fingers. Elspeth…she smiled at me. Her jade eyes warm and yet sad. She lifted a hand to stroke my cheek, 'oh Far, the adventures that await us,' she smiled, her voice sweet. I closed my eyes as tears threaten to slip, no. This is not real. THIS IS NOT REAL. She – she's gone. I choked back a sob as the meadow melted away, the hand interlocking mine became cold and the grip strong. A voice eerily beautiful whispered in my ear, 'until we meet again.' My eyes snap open, and instead of green I was met with dead black eyes.

No. No. No. No. No NO NO NO NO NO NO NO! SHE IS DEAD. SHE IS GONE. WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME! I screamed.

'Farrah!' A voice called urgently, as whispers erupted around me.

'Is she ok?'

'Please someone wake her,' Gran called frantically.

My eyelids were heavy, and my body felt as though I had spent hours tumbling through a fast flowing river. I felt as though I had drowned.

A warm hand covered my own, 'baby you need to wake up now,' it was Ange. I must open my eyes for her, I had to fight for her. Because if I continue to drift in this half-awake existence I'd be torn forever. Half my body chained to the magic of this land and the other half already dead from disease.

Yet, it was shock that forced me to awaken.

'Angela, she needs to go to the hospital,' a gruff voice lined with age and hardship argued to my right. That was Billy Black, my grandmother's cousin. No. He does not get a say in what I do or where I go. He does not know best. HE TURNED HIS BACK ON ME! How…I can't… anger choked me. Who the fuck does he think he is? I DIED THAT DAY AND HE DENIED IT. He could have stopped what happened, if he had listened she would be here with me, Els- no. Stop. Its in the past.

It sounded as though there were many people in the room with me, I could hear the familiar rich baritone voices of the boys who were once my family, and the worried tones of Angela.

I forced the image of strands of red hair curled around a dandelion out of my mind. With the same show of strength, I forced my eyes to open.

At first, I could see nothing, but soon Angela's face came into focus. 'Ma…' I croaked, 'where am I?'

'She's confused that's not her mum!' Quil protested before a swift elbow in the rips shut him up.

'Baby you had a seizure in front of Seth, remember Seth Clearwater? He carried you to Sue's,' Ange's face was taunt with worry. She knew what I thought about prominent members of the tribe, she knew that they did nothing, she knew I blamed them for the accident.

I was in a purple bedroom. That much I could tell, there was a poster of Stevie Nicks hanging on the opposite wall. I must be in Leah's room. Not that I could see much, there were at least ten people in here. Some I recognised and some that I didn't. Billy, my gran, Ange, Jake, Quil, Embry, Seth, Jared and a clone who looks exactly like Jared with angrier eyes. And then of course, there was Sam.

'What the fuck is he doing here,' I growled, staring at a man who ruined my life. Sam stared back, challengingly, but I was surprised to see a hint of regret and defeat lingered in his eyes.

'We saved you,' he answered. I scoffed, 'you didn't save me, you destroyed me. Now, I repeat. Fuck off.'

Jared and clone clenched their fists as I challenged who I knew to be their alpha, I could see the ripples shred through their chest as they fought the beast within them.

'That's enough!' commanded Jacob, he stood in between Sam and me, 'she has been through enough leave her be.'

Why were there so many people in here? I can't deal. I can't. I hate them! They…I can't breathe. I can't breathe. Heat gathered in my hands and the smell of burnt hair filled the room. Those with advanced senses stopped and stared at my hands hiding beneath the covers.

'SHIT!' I guess Ange guessed what was happening. 'Get out! Everybody move it or loose it you hear me? GET OUT RIGHT NOW!'

She pulled the quilt off my prone exhausted body, tiny flames flickered and danced among my fingertips. For magic to pull fire from my veins to the surface of my ill body is excruciating, a sharp shaft of metal plunged through my hands to my breast.

'Farrah,' my grandma spoke urgently, 'you need to calm yourself, your body is going to burn itself. You have not accepted this gift, it will continue to destroy you unless you calm down.'

Knives scraped my skin until it was raw, while jagged swords stabbed my chest inching ever so close to my heart.

The pain was rising, the heat was rising and the fire that roared from my fingertips surged to cover my arms.

I was being burnt alive by my bloods magic.

I screamed.

If I survived this I guess the council will know. The girl they turned their back on, is their Shaman. The girl who would rather die then serving those who betrayed her.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Ange desperately patted my burning flesh with a damp towel, screaming for the onlookers to get water. I knew that they had not left the purple bedroom, I could feel their eyes trained on my arms as the fire licked its way to my shoulders.

'Far, you need to control it!' Grandma called fearfully, intent on forcing reason through to my panicking mind and magic.

'What the fuck is going on?' I heard a deep voice question, sounding appalled.

'What is she? She could be dangerous. We need to do something about her,' Sam's deep baritone rumbling voice echoed in my brain.

I'm dangerous?

Do something about me?

Before I opened my voice to scream, I head Jacob cuss, and soon enough his piercing brown eyes stared into my own. The fire consumed my chest, and the pain had reached the point of no return. I will die. I lost control.

Through the roar of the fire I see the concerned and shocked face of my second cousin and former brother, he began to reach down to touch my arm. 'Don't!' I shrieked, 'I don't want to kill you.' His deep eyes hardened, and in one swoop he lifted me into his arms and rain out the room and out the backdoor. The Clearwaters house was situated on an old property which contained a small dam located a few hundred feet from the old homestead. The fire travelled from my arms to sink its fiery hooks into the Jacob's arms. He hissed in pain. Shouts and screams from those who had witnessed my combustion called out from the house.

'Jake...' I whispered, 'you'll be burnt.'

And in that second I was plunged into the damn, and fires were extinguished.

Jake hauled me out of the water, and softly placed me on the ground. Heavy footsteps echoed behind us.

He lied beside me, panting from pain and exterion before rolling over to check the burns on my arms.

'Farah,' he began haltingly, 'you don't have burns.'

I closed my eyes, 'native fires Jake, they will not disfigure any who have blood of the tribe but they will still hurt you.'

'Well shit. Still hurts like hell though.'

'Tell me about it.'

He sighed looking at his burnt shirt, 'looks like I need to go shopping again.'

'Ha,' a bitter laugh choked me, 'you phased like a year ago shouldn't you have better control over your anger by now?'

'You haven't met Paul yet have you, he's got the – ' suddenly his voice cut off, I gazed at him through my eyelashes and I bit down a grim smirk .

'You remember,' he stated quietly.

'Everything.'

'We couldn't have saved her,' he whispered brokenly.

Before the pack and my family arrived at the scene I rolled myself over to lean over him, 'yes, you could of.'

He was about to protest but suddenly I was hauled up by the neck of my burnt shirt. 'What the fuck was that? What the fuck are you?' The one pack member I did not recognise forced me to my feet painfully.'

'Paul!' Cried my shocked grandmother, 'she's sick put her down immediately.'

'No, she could be a threat!' He roughly twisted me to stare into his face, ah Paul, he was a Junior in my Freshmen year.

'What are you gonna do Lassie? Set the dogs on me?' I called up the last remaining strength I had left to light the palms of my hands and then grabbed his arms. He screeched in pain and anger before dropping me to the ground.


End file.
